Title: Utsukushii

Character/Pairing: Miroku/Sango

Rating: PG

c. 2006, revised 2009

Miroku had known many women. All his friends knew that. He had been something of a rogue before they all met, of course. From what they had learned of Miroku, he had started traveling on his own at roughly fourteen. Five years later, he had run into Inuyasha and tried to kidnap Kagome. In that time, he had tasted a dozen flavors of sake, conned more than a handful of villages, played tricks, stolen, and had all a manner of women.

They had to make assumptions about Miroku. He was dishonest. He wasn't the most virginal of men. He wasn't very pious. But he fought admittedly well, and made a good addition to their team. There was just a softer, deeper side to him that they hadn't seen yet.

Miroku didn't like to share his past, and they respected him for that.

But fear made people do very strange things.

Inuyasha's group had had dealings with the cursed hand before. Not too long after the sad, strong huntress joined their ragtag team, his hand had been cut by a praying mantis' claw. That was the first time that they learned that beneath his smiles and jokes, there was actually fear inside of him. They all learned something about him that day, but they didn't ask him to speak of it, and so he didn't. Instead, he masked his feelings by running his hand along a certain taijiya's bottom.

That was just Miroku's way, for a long time.

Since then, Miroku had never run off without telling them. They thought he knew better by now.

And so, when Kagome woke one night and found him missing, she woke the others up in her alarm.

Inuyasha cursed, and Shippou was childishly curious. Sango was worried. In the end, Kagome let the taijiya go look for him, since she had a feeling that maybe she knew him best. Sango was strictly mission-mode as she hopped astride Kirara, and the firecat took to the skies.

It didn't take long for her to find him. He had only gone a short distance into the forest. Just enough that he wouldn't endanger them if…

Sango shook her head. She didn't even like to think the words.

Unsurprisingly, he heard her soft footsteps approach him. His hearing was nothing to laugh at.

"Houshi-sama? Is it…is it your hand?"

He nodded, staring down at the purple cloth that covered the void. "I felt it…stretch. It's never been so noticeable before and I…," he took a breath, "I just thought it…but it didn't. It was just moving. Growing."

Sango took a step toward him, trying to ignore the morbid curiosity she heard in his voice.

"My birthday was a few days ago. I suppose it knows that another year's passed, that it'll grow even more next year and maybe swallow me. Maybe even now, it's planning on killing me when I go to sleep tonight, back at camp."

Sango was torn by his words. She walked around so that she could look into his face, and reached out hesitantly for his hand, the left one. She did not dare touch that most sensitive part of him, especially not at a time like this. "Maybe we should visit Mushin-sama?"

He shook his head. "It would do little good. Mushin-sama knows no more about how to measure my time than I do. Only Naraku knows, and perhaps he's watching us now, smiling to himself because he knows the exact day I will die."

Sango's grip on his hand tightened. "Please stop talking like that, Houshi-sama."

He blinked, as if he hadn't even noticed her presence. "I'm sorry, Sango. It's just that despite how I've tried to make the most out of the time I have, I've done a perfectly terrible job of it. I can't remember specific dates or events, even the name of someone who was kind to me."

"Surely you remember something," Sango said. "Or someone. Don't you remember any of the multitudes of women you've shared a bed with?" Her mouth twisted, her voice becoming a little sarcastic.

He caught her attempt to lighten the mood and curled his fingers lightly through hers, giving her that grin she knew so well. "Ah, I do admit that I don't remember a lot of them. A few stand out in my mind, here and there. I can remember a scent or a texture of skin, but no names. I can remember the girl I met just before I met Inuyasha, for example. She always smelled like plum blossoms and giggled when I tickled her stomach. She was too innocent, though. I never took her to my bed."

Sango blushed slightly, but smiled. "Was she pretty?"

"She was." A thought struck him. "Are you jealous?"

She shook her head quickly, letting go of his hands. "I just wonder. I mean, you only go for the pretty ones, right? Sometimes I wonder what would have become of us if you hadn't found me pretty."

Miroku laughed, taking her other hand. "Sango," he said, his eyes twinkling, "you are more than pretty. So much more. You are smart, and headstrong, and brave, and sad, and mysterious. You are beautiful."

Sango snorted. "You've probably said that to every woman you've met."

He shook his head in earnest. "No. Not once. I never got the chance to. I mean it, Sango. And don't just think I say this because I admire your physical attributes. When I say you are beautiful, it is because everything about you attracts me, and I'm afraid of what that might come to mean."

And Sango, shy and beautiful Sango, turned a shy and beautiful shade of red.

"Don't worry about what it might come to mean, Houshi-sama. You think too much."

"And what about you, Sango?" Miroku carefully moved a piece of her hair behind her ear. "Don't you have things to worry about as well?"

Sango's eyes clouded briefly, thinking of her brother. "Of course I do," she said, "and of course I worry. Don't think that I haven't tried to stop myself from…becoming too attached to you."

Miroku smiled, warmed by that last comment. "I think you're the pot calling the kettle black, Sango," he teased.

She shoved at him playfully. "I think we should get back to camp, Houshi-sama." She turned, preparing to get back on Kirara, when Miroku caught her hand again.

"I'll try not to worry if you do, Sango."

She turned that shy smile on him again, leading him to Kirara. "I think I can do that, Houshi-sama."

It was only after they got back to camp and sat down for supper that Miroku realized he'd forgotten to grope her.

He had a feeling she would have hit him harder than usual, anyway.

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The title means "beautiful".